The Ranger Unmasked
by xDracotheDeathEaterx
Summary: While staying in Imladris, Legolas meets a violent Ranger with a dark past, who isn't who he says he is...Will he join the Fellowship? And how Legolas react?
1. No Rest For the Weary

The Fellowship was resting in Rivendell. They would need to recuperate for the long and perilous journey ahead. Frodo, the Ringbearer, would need the most help, for he had met the Nazgul, the Great and Terrible Ringwraiths, and they had weakened him. Luckily, the Elves of Imladris were always there to help. Which was part of why Legolas loved the refuge. They welcomed all. But it also annoyed him. For a Ranger from Bree-Land was boarded in the room adjacent to his. And he was not one to fool with.

The man was loud, rude, and obnoxious. At banquets and meetings, no one, Elf or Man, would dare approach his tall, silent figure, for he was known to get in quite a temper at the mention of something as innocent as the weather. He was never without his dark hood and cloak; Legolas had never even seen his eyes, though he imagined them to be dark and cruel. At night, he would rage and storm in ancient languages, banging on the walls and screaming violent curses that Legolas couldn't understand. And that wasn't the worst of it. They said he was staying here to help him recover from a poison that had almost killed him. Bitterly, after the third sleepless night, Legolas guiltily wished it had. Rumors spread quickly in Imladris. Some whispered that the silent Ranger had killed his entire family and had gone to live alone in the wilderness, with only the wolves for companionship. They said that it was there he learned his fearsome ways. Legolas didn't know if he believed it. He knew some men were just born that way. But he was strangely curious, wondering about this dark Ranger. He knew he was different. And he wanted to know him, this terrible unnamed Ranger with the dark past. For reasons unknown to even himself.


	2. Scream in the Dark

On the fifth night, the man finally quieted. Legolas, as he lay on the silken sheets of the giant bed, was both intensely relieved and slightly frightened. What had caused this? Had some frustrated Elf finally silenced the uproarious Ranger? He shook his head to ward off his idiotic thoughts, no doubt borne to him by the Elder wine he had drunk previously. He rolled over, the sheets rustling, drowsy from the feast and the long day. Legolas was about to enter the strange world of Elven-sleep when a sudden noise made him sit bolt upright, his hand groping frantically for the white knife he kept under his pillow. It was a horrible, high-pitched shreik that made his princely blood run cold. And it came from the Ranger's bedchambers.

Without a second thought, he vaulted out of bed and donned a thin silver robe, tying it quickly around his willowy frame, with the knife still upraised. So the man _was _still around. He smiled grimly to himself, though his heart was pounding. And someone, or something, was in the Ranger's room. Something that made a grown man scream like he was being chased by some fell beast of Mordor. He shivered in the darkness. The name Mordor did not bring comfort to the Elf-Prince, though he was the best archer on this side of the Misty Mountains. With two quick strides, he kicked the door open and walked into the hallway, tensed.

A faint breeze stirred the air from some faraway window. His long, golden hair, loosed from his normal braids, swirled around his pale face. His breathing came hard and fast, his jewel-bright eyes darting around in the darkness. His sensitive ears alerted himself of the ringing silence. Legolas would have rather heard screams. At least he would know that the man was still alive. With a dark expression twisting his handsome face, Legolas pulled open the dark wooden door with baited breath.


	3. Nothing?

The door swung inward. The Elven-Prince stepped in, knife raised warily, sharp eyes darting to and fro. He frowned, calming himself. Something was wrong here. His eyes had never failed him before. There was nothing fell or strange in the room. An open window streamed moonlight onto the large bed, its occupant seemingly asleep, though the figure seemed curiously still for a sleeping person. Legolas waited anxiously. Now that he actually thought about it, the utterance had sounded more like a female's...Had some woman perhaps been tortured here? Or raped? he wouldn't put it past the Ranger.

His mind spinning, Legolas attempted to control his imagination. His eyes travelled the room once more. Still he could find nothing wrong. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steadying himself for what he was about to do. He would rather face some beast than what he was about to do. With a few silent steps he made it to the bed, staring down at the tall, thin person wrapped in the dark red bedsheets. Quickly, before his pounding heart got the better of him, he bent double and prodded the sleeping Ranger in the back.


	4. Confrontation

The man sat bolt upright; he didn't even roll over. Legolas jumped back at the sudden clang and flash of glinting metal. The Ranger had drawn his longsword and was pointing it at Legolas, green, serpentine eyes glaring into his in defiance. Legolas almost cowered, he had but a knife against the powerful weapon, but he was the Prince of Mirkwood, and used to such conflicts. " I heard screaming," he said, a slight tremble creeping into his voice. Even in the darkness, Legolas's eyes saw the Ranger's badly scarred face, a flash of bright red hair. When he caught him staring, the man quickly flipped up his hood and pulled a dark garment up to his neck. Legolas gazed at him in amazement; who was strange enough to wear his travelling gear to bed?

His voice was raspy and fury-packed, grinding against Legolas' sensitive ears like crushed glass. "You don't belong here, Elf." The Prince knew better than to pick an argument with this formidable man, the dark, unknown element. But the handsome elf's pride got in the way, as it usually did. "I have every right to be here as you." Legolas saw a muscle going in the man's badly mangled face. But he didn't back down, speaking over the alarm blaring in his mind. "As we are both abiding on this refuge by the kindness of the Elves, I would be careful, Ranger. I have every right to enter a room when such a noise besmirches my ears."

The man snorted, but Legolas was proud to see a flicker of fear in those frightful eyes. "The only screaming, Pointy-Ear, was the noise inside your princely head." Legolas ground his teeth. He hated the mocking name almost as much as he hated the man's mocking tone, as if he were a child. Well, the Prince of Mirkwood would not be spoken to that way, not by this sad excuse of a Ranger! Descended from the kings of old! Legolas would eat his bow if this were true. Ranger indeed! Legolas turned on his heel and stalked off, golden hair flashing. It was his fault for having a bit of curiosity in the first place. But a sudden noise made him stop dead.


	5. Strange Moods

The voice had lost its previous harshness. Instead, it sounded softer, even melancholy. "You must stay. I cannot do this anymore." Legolas whirled around. He narrowed his gaze and did not move his knife. This could very well be a trap, he reminded himself. Rangers were crafty folk. But again, the Elf's curiosity got the best of him. "I don't understand." He took two small steps toward the bed. His bright eyes flashed. "Get out of bed so we can speak as proper equals." The Ranger sheathed his sword and slowly slid onto the floor. Legolas noticed how the Ranger's hands immediately went to his collarbone to pull up the garment that covered his chest. The Ranger's strange eyes met his. Was it just his imagination, or did his face flush slightly? Legolas couldn't tell, the face was too marred. He sure was an odd human.

The Ranger still did not elaborate. Legolas, feeling a growing sense of dread, felt he had to fill the silence with something. He was tired, and he was seriously starting to regret coming here in the first place. "Who are you?" The man grimaced, his mutilated face contorting. "No one knows my name." The grating voice was back, Legolas resisted the urge to cover his ears. "They all guess at my story. But none can tell it truly."

It was Legolas' turn to grimace. "Just tell me your name." The Ranger laughed, a harsh bark that made Legolas flinch. "I won't tell anyone my true name. Call me Adrian." Legolas was well-learned in name-lore. "Uruvion," he whispered quietly to himself. The Elvish word did not bring comfort to him. " Dark one." Who would choose such a name for himself?

" I don't like people talking behind my back!" barked the Ranger. Legolas stared at him, wondering. "But they do, don't you know that?"

Adrian made a move for his sword, but he seemed to think better of it. He frowned, then to Legolas' great suprise, he placed his head in his hands and sank back down on the bed, defeated. "It's the nightmares that drive me insane," he said quietly to himself. "You have no idea how it is. Dark beasts that eat me alive in the night. You must help me, please." He raised his head, and Adrian's green eyes were wild with desire. "You must help me."

Legolas didn't like this Ranger, and he couldn't take his mood swings. He didn't trust hiself to be in a room with him, all alone. But at least he had found out the cause of the screaming. It was Adrian himself, his mind must be tortured with his past. Legolas was angry with himself. Adrian wasn't even his real name! Yet... He slowly lowered his knife, against his better judgement. "I cannot aid you," said the Elf Prince quietly. "No one can help you but yourself."


	6. No One But Yourself

Adrian's snake-like eyes scorched into his. The Elf couldn't decode the emotion in them. Anger? Pain, even? But he couldn't take it anymore. Legolas strode out of the room, knife in hand, the gigantic door swinging shut with a resonous clang that seemed to seal Adrian's doom. "You hide behind your mask, Elf, but beneath it lies a turmoil," called the Ranger softly. Stung by his words, the Prince itched to put the Ranger in his place. Legolas paused, alone in the cold quiet gloom of the hallway. But Adrian was a sad, twisted person, someone who could easily become better with some patience... He knew that he was exaggerating. After all, he was the Prince of Mirkwood, not some minister who tended to a Ranger's every whim!

But where would he, Legolas, be without the kindness of men? He admitted to himself, grudgingly, that men were almost as significant as Elves in the grand sceme of things. Almost. Elves, especially Mirkwood Elves, had so many superior traits. To put his mind at ease, he made a small list. Intuition, mental powers, resiliance, hair...Especially hair. With a smug smile and a hair flip Legolas sauntered back to his room, trying to ignore the angry voice in the back of his mind.

(*.*.*.*)

When he finally fell asleep, the Elf had a disturbing dream. He was in the vast uncharted wilderness of his home province, Mirkwood. At first, his mind was at ease. He knew this land well, even if he was miles from his home. Legolas' strong eyes penetrated the darkness of the forest better than any hawk's. With a practiced gaze, he scanned the stars to pinpoint his location. Ah, yes. One of his favorite hunting haunts. He was very suprised he didn't recognize it quicker. He frowned. Maybe he was going soft. No, not his strong, shining blue eyes that had never failed him before. He smiled again, confidence restored. Legolas set off in the right direction, twords his father's palace. From nowhere, a demon was unleashed. Wind snapped and howled around him. His surroundings swirled in a vortex of color and he was doused in complete and utter darkness, a crushing blackness. He was screaming enough to make his throat raw but he couldn't hear himself; surely he was dying! He twitched and writhed on whatever excruciatingly hot surface he lay on. His entire body felt asphysxiated by the immesnse weight , his mind and soul and body crushed to the thiness of glass. And a scarred face appeared in the void, laughing cruelly at his torturous pain and shimmering in and out of Legolas' vision. Adrian. His serpentine eyes glinting like some foul servant of Sauron, he said, "No one can help you but yourself."


	7. She Elves In the Courtyard

Legolas awoke with warm sunlight on his face. He stretched in the silken softness of the huge bed and couldn't supress a small smile. He had finally gotten some sleep. Although there had been a dream- he strained his memory. It had been a fell dream...But staring out the crystalline window at Rivendell in its unspoiled autumn beauty drove all thoughts out of his mind. Forget Adrian, that lying weasel, and whatever dreams he had brought upon him. Legolas was going to go enjoy the splender of the sparkling cascade, of the trees that always seemed so expressive here. He rose and dressed, donning his signature green tunic, brown boots, and dark green cloak. He slung his bow and quiver around his shoulder, perhaps he could get in some target practice. Not that he needed it, but still...How could it hurt to get even better?

(*.*.*.*)

Legolas descended the stone steps, the view of the beautiful courtyard opening up before him. Ivy poured from every alcove, twisting itself around the stone pilliars and archways. Distingushed men, women, wizards and Elves sat on stone benches under the shade of the huge trees, fanning themselves and talking in quiet voices. Leaves, red and gold and brown, swirled in the paltry air.

It was a welcome sight. Legolas smiled at a group of Rivendell she-Elves in long purple dresses, they giggled appreciatively and murmured about the Prince of Mirkwood behind their hands. He walked carefully, knowing that they were still staring at his perfect, slender physique. Legolas headed towards the woods, but he slowed and turned slightly, a sly smile creeping onto his face. Thranduril hadn't found him a bride yet...Perhaps he could get a headstart? It would be so easy, the place was simply swarming with attractive, pure-blood royal Elves. And who wouldn't take him?

He strutted back to the group of women, hair flashing in the light. They smiled and whispered amongst themselves, wondering which of them would be the focus of the Prince's attention. "It's a fair morning, yes?" Legolas swept into a perfect bow, never taking his eyes off the beautiful Elves. Though he was of higher social status, it was the polite thing to do.

The middle Elf, her auburn hair and sparkling hazel eyes like a jewel among the autumn trees, blushed as she noticed his lingering gaze. Yes, she was by far the purest. What a marvelous female! He extended his hand, heart thudding, staring into those brilliant eyes, his confident face a mask behind which his heart raced, his pride faltered, his emotions that were always so well-controlled ran rampant. "Shall we walk among the-" Something hard slammed into Legolas, and he collapsed to the cobblestones below, his hand slipping out of the Elf's, hair flying, all the wind knocked out of him.


	8. Again?

Legolas gasped, struggling to get air back into his lungs, his body already aching from its sudden impact with the cold stone. He wiped his streaming eyes and looked up. When he saw who was looming down at him, he groaned loudly. Did this Ranger always appear at the worst of moments, or did he just seem to bring trouble with him like some Wraith?

Adrian's eyes glittered from beneath the hood, his face cast half in shadows from the overhanging trees. The black cloak covered his entire frame like a shroud woven from the fabric of darkness itself. He glared down at Legolas with such vengeance that Legolas knew he was thinking of the night before. A sudden wave of fear passed over him, but he chided himself. What could this Ranger-imposter do to him in the broad daylight? He had no reason to fear this man. Legolas scrambled angrily to his feet, brushing off his clothing. "What are you trying to do, sir? Squash me like an insect?" All thoughts of the Elf women were driven out of his mind by the sudden appearance of Adrian, the man who both infuriated and intrigued him.

At the sound of the Ranger's frigid voice, the women seemed to move backwards, as if his scarred face and vindictive demeanor was a disease they might catch. "I apologize, _Prince_," he growled, every syllable dripping with dislike. "Mayhaps you were merely in the wrong place at the wrong time. Does thou need any help cleaning thy princely clothing from the speck of dirt that may have besmirched it?"

Legolas felt his face go red. He clenched his fists to keep himself from reaching for his bow. The She-Elves watched the men with baited breath and wide eyes. "You were not above asking for my assistance last evening, _Ranger._ Recall that I denied." Legolas watched the man's face flush, pleased at how easily he could anger Adrian. His mutilated face contorted, his eyes turned to slits. "That was different."

He had had enough. Legolas strode away into the forest, breathing a sigh of relief, listening to the whispers of the trees in his ears. He notched his bow, finding a tree and sinking an arrow perfectly into its bark. How glad he was to finally be rid of that idiotic Ranger! Or so he thought. The Prince felt a rough hand on his shoulder, heard a low voice in his ear. " Oh, I'm not done with you yet. Not after you brought that up again, Elf."


	9. In The Woods of Rivendell

Legolas' heart began to speed up. He took an instinctive step backwards. The Prince gripped his bow tightly and gazed at the man in front of him. The man stared at each other wordlessly, the trees murmuring curiously in the background. Legolas spoke first, his emotions tumbling out of his mouth before he could hold them back. "Who are you? Why do you keep following me?" The wind stirred his hair, tickled his pale face. He scuffed at the dirt with a faded brown boot. Legolas cursed his curiosity. It was his one flaw.

Adrian looked at the ground. His powerful chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing. His scarred face looked hard, calculating. Legolas wondered if he was deciding what to tell him. Either that, or coming up with new lies. He wouldn't put it past him. Adrian was a deceitful snake.

The Ranger looked Legolas straight in the eyes. The Prince stared back coolly. Who did this human think he was? "For an Elf that has everything handed to him, one can say that you are unaturally curious." He leered at him, displaying shap teeth. He pushed his shockingly red hair out of his eyes with a gloved hand. Legolas held his ground, still clutching his bow in a white-knuckled grip. Two could play this game. "You followed me here. You want something from me."

The Ranger didn't look angry, instead, he looked mildly interested, as if Legolas was a fine steed and he was wondering as if to buy him. "Yes, I do. I want your alleigance, Elf. I asked for your help, and the offer is still on the table." Legolas grimaced. He had hoped that this subject would not be broached again. He already felt guilty enough about it. To avoid his statement, he frowned and said, "Just tell me who you are."

Adrain rubbed his scarred face; Legolas shivered inwardly at the state of its ugliness. What would Legolas do without his dashing good-looks? Probably die. He shivered again. Adrian tilted his head to the side, his eyes hard and cold. "I won't tell you unless you agree to help me."

Legolas sighed. "No." Adrian folded his arms and sneered at him. "Then all I will tell you is this: I'm not who I say I am." He took a huge step forward, Legolas flinched. He and Adrian were now only inches apart, and it wasn't a pretty sight. Adrian whispered in a deadly voice, "And I intend to join the Fellowship." Legolas tried to laugh, but it died in his throat. "Elrond will never accept your plea, Ranger." He hoped it was true, he hoped that this cruel man would not become a part of the fight against Sauron. But when he looked around, he realized that Adrian was already gone.


	10. No One Can Take It From Me

Legolas found himself back in his room some hours later, the door shut. He was alone with his thoughts. For now. Or would that insolent Ranger somehow find a way to creep in the window? Legolas flopped down onto his bed, his head spinning, weary from all the ale he had downed in order to put that man from his thoughts. So why did he keep creeping back into his thoughts, like some kind of venemous insect? By Elendil. Legolas pushed his hair back from his forehead, shocked to find it slick with sweat. Was he losing his nerve?

No. Not him. He was perfect, the most beautiful thing to walk Middle Earth, he tried to convince himself half-heartedly. No one, Man or Elf, could surpass his enchanting, haunting good looks. Nor his archery, skills tuned to perfection. And no one, not anyone, could take those things from him. Not anyone. Those were _his_ gifts. _His _talents. Weren't they? Was he, Prince Legolas Thranduil, really started to question himself?

*.*.*.*.*

Legolas sat up quickly, his slim frame trapped chokingly in the sheets. He was suprised to see moonlight playing on the silken sheets, dust dancing in the darkness. Had he really fallen asleep? He bit his lip, hard, until he felt a drop of blood run down his chin. As if in a dream, he slowly raised his hand and touched the blood that had, until seconds ago, ran in his veins. He looked at the tiny, glistening drop of blood on his finger. _What was happening to him?_

A sudden noise made him jump. The large wooden door swung open, revealing a young She-Elf, clothed in a billowing silver gown of Rivendell and shaking like a cornered mouse. She kept her eyes glued to the floor, her finger twisting her long hair into nervous curls. Legolas was pleased to see that she was nervous to see him. Now _this_ was something he was familiar with. It happened all the time in Mirkwood. He beamed a charming, heart-melting smile at the young woman quivering under the door-frame, at the same time hastily wiping all traces of the blood from his face, all his insecurities temporarily gone. "Yes, Dearest?"

The Elf turned a delicate shade of pink. At Legolas' small complement, she swayed dangerously on her feet, looking about to faint. "L-Lord Elrond r-requested your prescence at a-an immediate F-Fellowship meeting." Legolas rose quickly from his bed, not even noticing the wrinkled state of his clothes. "Thank you," he whispered, and quickly kissed her hand. He was so eager to get to the meeting, he almost ran out the door. The Prince didn't even hear the young Elf's sigh of infatuation, nor did he hear her hit the floor in a dead swoon.


	11. Thoughts About Adrian

Legolas really didn't know where the meeting was; the woman hadn't told him where it was taking place. He looked around, the still beauty of Imladris in the night almost stealing his breath away. The moon bathed everyone in a mystical light, so it was easy to see that many Elves and Men were heading towards a large, open meeting hall in the center of the refuge. The Prince walked forward, his heart thumping in spite of himself. There was no doubt that Adrian would be there. And what would he do? Legolas almost didn't want to consider it, the thought that had been nagging at him, but it floated to the front of his mind against his will. He smiled thinly to himself. To even _consider_ it was proposterous, a ridiculous fancy. But Adrian knew how to play people to his will. No, not Lord Elrond. He wouldn't be able to persuade him. A picture formed in his mind, of his glittering green eyes and malicious attitute when Legolas refused to help him. He was uncomfortable when he thought of it. He suddenly stopped dead, looking up at the sky in deep thought. Well, he didn't really know _what_ to help Adrian with, exactly. And why should he care about that ridiculous madman? As Legolas set back on his way, his smiling mask plastered back on his pale, flawless face, he thought grimly, _I will prevent him from joining the Fellowship if that be my last action in this Middle Earth. _


	12. Before The Meeting Begins

The Elven-Prince was still trying to gather his somewhat scrambled wits about him as he neared the splendid meeting hall. Carved in magnificent oak and adorned with pearly shells imported all the way from the Sea of Rhun, it was surely created to show foreigners how the Elven-refuge, though seeming at most times simple and accepting of all, could be a place of splendor and towering magnificance demeaning to even the most confident Elf-Prince. Which was exactly how Legolas felt at the moment. It was unusual for him, the feeling of such insignificance, and it made his blood boil even more when he realized that Adrian was the root of all his self-loathing. Legolas needed some time alone, to think and consider. And not think about that devil, that demon spawn, that false Ranger who played the mind games so well that he was starting to make Legolas feel like a dirty peasant!

The place was abuzz with all manner of folk, most of them not in the Fellowship. Apparently, another meeting had just ended. Handsome Elves engaged each other in elegant conversation, their richly embroidered robes shining in the glow of the lanterns. Beautiful She-Elves from as far as Lothlorien sat on ash-wood benches and cast him hopeful looks, blushing and giggling. The air rang with their tinkling laughter. Dwarves and men sat at the large, oaken table with tankards of fine wines, loudly discoursing on the high prices of steeds and lumber. They could barely be seen through the fog of pipe-weed floating around their heads. Lord Elrond presided over them all on a raised granite platform, looking resplendent in robes of sweeping emrald. His lined face wore a confident smile, but Legolas could see him cast wary looks at the men and Dwarves seated at the table. As the bowing servants of Rivendell brought more and more wine, their uproarious conversation became increasingly louder and more coarse.

As Legolas ascended the sweeping steps, he nervously flattened his rumpled green tunic and tryed to look regal and charming. But it had never been this hard. He had to politely excuse himself from a light conversation with a wizard whom he didn't know. He didn't want anyone to see the cracks in the perfect, alabaster-pale mask that had been his face for many years now. He had always kept him emotions in check, always. But now, when anger and discontent reared its ugly had, Legolas had no choice but to stand alone in the corner, arms folded, scowling darkly. Curse that imposter scum! That had to have been the millionth time he had thought that.

He allowed his eyes to search the room, looking for the one person who really knew how to make him tick. With a small sigh of relief, he realized Adrian wasn't even in the meeting hall. He smiled smugly. Perhaps the Ranger wasn't considered important enough to come to the meeting! Then again, that voice said in his mind, Lord Elrond is not aware that he wants to join. He gritted his teeth, hearing Adrian's voice replay in his mind. The Elf-Prince curled his hands into fists and unclenched them, clench and unclench, over and over. No! He must not think of that creature any longer! With slow, deep breaths, he suceeded in releasing some of his tension. Now he didn't feel so utterly vile and murderous. Someone he spotted in an opposite corner made his face light up in a legitimate smile . He made a beeline through the crowd to get to the one man who had been his friend for many, many long years.

"Aragorn," Legolas smiled. Though he had seen the Ranger just a few days ago, it made any day better when the Prince got a chance to talk to this interesting man. Aragorn's stormy grey eyes crinkled as he smiled. It unnerved Legolas to see how many grey streaks were already present in his friend's formerly black hair, how many wrinkles lined his careworn face. But he didn't let it show, of course. To point out such a thing would hint that Aragorn was a mere mortal, and Legolas would live on far after he was gone. It was a disquieting fact that Legolas tried to never relive. The day that Aragorn died would be the day that the Prince of Mirkwood would wish for his own death.

Aragorn cast a glance around him. He pulled Legolas closer to him, and already the intuitive Prince could tell something was wrong. "Legolas, I have something important to say," he whispered in an old Elvish tounge that Legolas guessed only Rangers spoke anymore. "It concerns-" but Aragorn was interrupted by the loud tones of Lord Elrond. "Anyone who was not called to the meeting which will commence now, you will find that your beds are waiting for you. Have a good rest, and I shall see most of you in the morning." With good-natured laughs at Elrond's dry humor, those who were not members of the Fellowship rose to their feet. Some, the Dwarves in particular, were more than a little unsteady as they filed out, all heading towards their temporary dwellings. Now Legolas could see all the Fellowship, Frodo still looking a bit pale and sickly. But he could do nothing but smile and catch their eyes before he was shunted into a seat next to Aragorn. The patrons looked expectantly at Lord Elrond, who stood at the head of the table. "Most of you may be wondering why I have called you here. It is to discuss, an, ah, _ minor change_ in our Fellowship. I shall let him speak for himself." Adrian himself stepped out from behind the Lord, his black cloak sweeping the ground, his eyes piercing the Elf Prince through the heart, grinning like Sauron himself.


	13. The Fellowship of the Ten

For a moment, no one spoke a word. The other members of the Fellowship simply stared at Adrian as if they had never seen anyone so unfit to join the fight against the Dark Lord. Legolas saw Aragorn glance quickly at Lord Elrond, as if to judge if he was still sane. A bitter taste rose in Legolas' throat. As much as he wanted to look away, he continued to look into the burning emralds that were Adrian's eyes. As it was, it took every fiber of his being to keep himself in the chair, instead of bolting across the hall and bodily dragging the fake Ranger out of the room. But he knew that would get him nowhere. It might even get him expelled from the Fellowship. So Legolas satisfied himself by staring back with as much malice as one could put into one look.

Adrian began to speak, never taking his eyes off the Prince's. His voice was a low purr as he slowly swaggered closer to the table, his body radiating confidence and energy. Even a fool could tell that the man was extremely satisfied with the situation. "Many thanks, Lord Elrond, for your most gracious introduction." Legolas couldn't tell what mood he was in, or if he was being sarcastic. One couldn't tell with Adrian. Like a cobra, he expected him to strike out at any moment. Legolas couldn't forget those heinous sleepless nights, with the Ranger cursing and storming at himself while Legolas brooded and longed to silence him. And he had had the gusto to ask for his help! Thinking of this made the Prince's insides sqirm with guilt. But he put it out of his mind as he continued to stare down the Ranger. Much more important things were at hand.

"As he has stated, I have intended to become a part of this Fellowship ever since I heard of its origin." Legolas almost snorted aloud. Elrond took great care in making sure the Fellowship was only known to its participants. Adrian wouldn't have known about it unless he had been doing some serious sneaking around. Another mark against that weasel! Couldn't Elrond see what a ridiculous choice it was to appoint this man to the Fellowship? Legolas wanted to scream at him. Sweat poured down his back, and he was suddenly claustrophobic. Please, let it end soon! Let Elrond see what a foolhardy mistake he made!

"I believe I will play a valuable role in the extermination of the Dark Power that has resurfaced." At this, Adrian looked around the table at the Fellowship members. The hobbits Pippin and Merry shared an incredulous glance. The wizard they called Gandalf's wrinkled face was creased into a frown, his bushy eyebrows almost obscuring his intelligent eyes. The uncouth dwarf whom Legolas thought was called Gimli was half-smiling, half-grimacing at the Ranger, as if he thought he was playing a joke on them all. Frodo the Ringbearer looked about to cry, and his friend Samwise watched him with concern. Boromir, the obnoxious Prince of Gondor, looked like he wanted to get up and make a big speech like he did at the original Fellowship meeting. Aragorn was looking determinedly at his hands, though Legolas could see that all the blood had drained from his friend's face. By Elendil! If he made Elessar nervous, then Legolas must have underestimated the power of this false Ranger.

"I, as a Ranger of the North, have powers that will greatly contribute to your group. I shall protect the Ringbearer will all my will and strength. For those of you who have not had the pleasure of making my aquaintence, I am Adrian, son of Arathain, descended from the Numenorian Kings of Old. For those who have gotten wind of the rumors, I have been recovering from a poison that almost took my life. It is true, I have enemies. But how can a man of such power be free of them?"

Silence rang in the meeting hall after Adrian's little speech, punctuated by nothing more than the chirping of the insects coming from the gardens. Legolas' stomah churned. He wished with all his might that Lord Elornd would say something, do something, correct himself. His heart pounded out a tempo in his chest. Legolas glanced at Aragorn and his greyish eyes betrayed his great anxiety. Please, don't let him join, the Prince chanted over and over in his mind. But he was dismayed to see that the Lord of Rivendell actually smiled. Legolas clenched his fists so hard that his nails drew blood. His heart sank as Elrond spoke in ringing tones, his voice echoing in the large space.

"Welcome, Adrian. Welcome to the Fellowship of the Ten."


	14. Broken

Legolas was dimly aware of the fact that he was slowly rising from the table. His body felt as if someone had replaced his innards with icewater. There was a dull buzzing in the back of his brain, and he couldn't hear a word of what Lord Elrond was saying. All he knew was that the Fellowship was staring at him with round eyes, as if he were an untamed animal that might lash out at any second. And that was the way he felt.

Adrian folded his arms across his chest, his badly scarred face stretching into a triumphant smile. No. Legolas would not give him that gratification, not let him see that he had truly gotten his revenge. He turned back to Adrian, and his face contracted in an ugly grimace. The Fellowship was meant to fight evil, not include it...The one place where he knew he could be safe, with his friends-and now Adrian had ruined it? He wasn't even safe in his own mind! What else would he take from him? As if someone else were controlling the Prince's body, he felt his legs move himself forward. Before he knew it, he had descended the steps and was out in the open courtyard, running now, like a wild horse, his silvery hair streaking out behind him like a glimmer of starlight. Just to get anywhere, anywhere away from Adrian.

Legolas felt himself collide full-on with something rock solid. Stars bloomed before his eyes, and his heart pounded so hard and fast that he feared it might explode and end his life. What if it did? Would anyone even care? He was starting to seriously frighten himself. He tried not to let Adrian get to him...but the Fellowship. That was crossing the line. After several moments, the extreme throbbing in his head subsided to a dull ache, and he was able to get his bearings. Legolas had hit a tree. He realized he was in the forest again, where he had encountered Adrian before the Fellowship meeting. Adrian. The false Ranger. The imposter. The snake. The Dark One. And the tenth member of the Fellowship. Not only had he hit a tree, he had hit rock-bottom.

Some dam broke inside of him, some deep emotion, clawing up from his chest, a monster longing to be free. "Noooo!" he wailed suddenly, kneeling on the forest floor, his voice trailing off into the trees. "No, no... it isn't...cannot be..." His thoughts were a whirling torrent, and he was trapped, naked and vulnerable, inside the storm. He beat the ground with his fists until they bled, as if the dirt beneath him was really Adrian. His chest heaved with laborous breath, his teeth bared in a vicious expression. Suddenly, his violent actions ceased. Gingerly, he touched his face, and his fingers came back warm and sticky, he didn't know what from. Dirt clung to every inch of his expensive clothes, every pore of his body was saturated with sweat. His silver-blonde hair was tangled in knots around his face so that he could barely see. "What is wrong with me?" he cried anguishedly, but of course no one gave the Prince an answer. He felt as if the walls of his perfect world were coming down around him, piece by piece, and Adrian was the destroyer. And once his world was gone, what else did he have?

The Prince hugged his knees to his chest and rocked back and forth to comfort himself, comfort he knew would not come. He felt a solitary teardrop slide down his cheek, followed by another, and another. The trees whispered with sympathy. But they couldn't help him. No one could. Nothing was safe for the Prince anymore, nothing was simple. Soon, Legolas was sobbing softly, whimpering to himself, his clothes wet with miserable tears. He cried like he was a child again, a child who just realized he was all by himself in the big, wide Middle Earth. Never had he felt so weak, so filthy, so ashamed. Never had he felt so unlike his princely self. Never in his life had Legolas felt so alone.


	15. Angry At Himself

After some time, Legolas felt as if the fiery spirit that had posessed him only moments ago had left his body. Breathing heavily, he pushed his hair out of his face and tried to clear his mind. But it was no use. It was as if some sorcerer had bewitched his brain so that all his thoughts would float away into the great, wide nothingness. Nothing had meaning, nothing made sense. He chided himself for being so weak. Why hadn't he spoken up? Surely the Prince of Mirkwood's opinion would be held in high esteem to a fellow Elf like Lord Elrond! Legolas was more than a bit angry with himself. Why hadn't he thought of this before? Why did he waste his time floundering in self-pity? That certainly wouldn't get him anywhere. Look at you, he thought angrily. A handsome, talented Elf, spoiling yourself with hatred and jealousy! Constructive plans must be made, carefully thought out and executed. He was capable of that.

The Prince knew he had to do something. But nothing could be done at this time. He didn't know for how long he had been out here, alone in the woods of Rivendell, but it had seemed like hours to him. Legolas knew that Lord Elrond and all the others were probably in bed at the moment, dreaming trivial dreams, while he was out here pondering the very future of the Fellowship of the Ring. Legolas lowered his weary self onto the dirt below him, smoothing out the marks that his fists had made only minutes ago. He raised his head to look at the sky above. The stars were beautiful diamonds sewn onto a rich, inky cloak. Above was such unspoiled beauty. So why was there so much confusion down on Middle Earth?


	16. Perfect Again

At some point, the young prince just got up and left, walking out of the woods that had been the scene of so much panic and insanity. His emotions, he realized, were beginning to get more complex. And they were much harder to hide. Legolas only had to look down at his bruised knuckles to remind himself of that. He ground his teeth, some of the old anger for the false Ranger Adrian returning. The hatred felt good, familiar, bubbling up inside him like hot lava. It blotted out all his other feelings. And it was so much easier to deal with than all the other strange things he had been dealing with of late. He walked to his room, fell immediately onto his bed without bothering to undress, and sank into a blissful, untroubled sleep.

.*.*.*.*.

Dawn, it seemed, came all too quickly. Legolas wiped the sleep from his bright eyes and walked over to the washbasin in the corner of his room, which was filled with water from the nearby river. The Elf peeled off his grimy shirt and began to wash his pale skin free of all the dirt, blood and grime, a grim reminder of last night's unfortunate events. He braided his golden hair in an intricate circlet, marvelling at himself in the gilded mirror that hung on the wall. The sunlight twinkled in his golden hair and played across his flawless face, his eyes shining out like blue beacons. Legolas turned to admire the graceful curve of his muscular back, his strong arms and chest. Now he looked fit to be a prince. Now he looked handsome again. He smiled at how easily he could return to perfection. Legolas wanted to look as pretty and persuasive as possible. Especially since today he was going straight to Lord Elrond, to make an appeal about Adrian. And nobody was going to stop him. Not even that mangy, worthless, repugnant, ugly old ork...

There was a muffled curse, a crash, and the Prince's door swung open and banged against the wall. "Hello, Your Highness," the hissing voice mocked from beneath the hood. "Aren't you happy to see me?"


	17. Not Like The Others

Legolas was, for once, struck speechless. It seemed as if even the rules of privacy did not apply to the Ranger. Damn it all! Nothing applied to Adrain! Legolas' face flushed with anger, but he decided to keep his temper in check. He didn't want to do something rash. He had a plan, and he didn't want to dash it all by unleashing his anger on Adrian. That might even get him expelled from the Fellowship. Legolas wanted to spit when he thought of it. The Fellowship of the Ten. Tainted, like everything else, by the snakelike Ranger with the green eyes.

Adrian's eyes travelled over the Prince's bare torso. For a second, it seemed as if he were going to say something, but seemed to think better of it. He just continued to stare at him, eyes narrowed. Legolas felt like he was under scrutiny, something that he didn't like. "Why are you following me?" He said in a perfectly level, civil tone. And actually, the question had been nagging at the back of his mind for some time. And he wanted to know the answer. Of all people, Adrian had to be someone who really hated him. An enemy, even. Why, then, did he seem so interested?

"Let us just say that I find you, ah-_ interesting,"_ the Ranger said from beneath his hood, eyes glowing like jade coals. Legolas snorted. He could see through Adrian's pitiful lie like a pane of glass. "Please, do tell," he mocked, as if speaking to a young child. "Do confess about how _interesting_ you find me." He just couldn't _wait_ to go to Lord Elrond!

The Ranger sneered at him, but at the same time, his face seemed to flush a little. He pulled up on his tunic, as Legolas noticed he did a lot when he was nervous, but looked straight into Legolas' eyes as he spoke. His voice, once so grating to the Elf's ears, seemed to soften again, like when he had begged for Legolas' help. "You're not like the others," said the new voice, the unfamiliar voice that seemed so smooth, kind even, when compared to the other. Adrian stared at Legolas, and his snakelike eyes did not bore into hos blue ones like they usually did. Some other emotion was there, hidden behind the scarred face and dark cloak. Adrian looked so...lost. For reasons unknown to Legolas, the voice and the desperate look sent shivers down his spine. Perhaps it was because it reminded him of how he denied to help the Ranger, help him from those heinous dreams. Or perhaps it was because the voice-it was the voice of a stranger. And it made him wonder...

What else what Adrian concealing about his true self?


	18. The Plan

For a moment, the pair just regarded each other. Silently, standing tall, man to Elf. Prince to Ranger. Legolas' blue eyes locked onto Adrian's brilliant green ones. A force crackled between them, invisible, but electric. Their hatred was tangible...but something else was there. Something that had not been there before. A curious thing, one that Legolas couldn't quite put a label on. All was silent in the lavish Rivendell room. Birdsong, chipper and melodious, could be heard through the window, but the silence in the Prince's quarters was thick and uneasy.

Legolas' mind was a blur. What was going on? He had no doubt that this was some new ploy, some new trick to deceive him, trick him, bend him to the Ranger's will. Why, then, did he feel so strange? It was...it was as if some new door had appeared. He was standing on the threshold, knocking, but he still couldn't enter. The Prince grew weary of trying, but he would never falter. And though he wished it were not true, he knew that the only person who could let him in was Adrian Arathain, the man of many falsehoods.

A thought pierced his mind and he set his jaw, his face growing pale, his body cold. Legolas clenched his fists. He was going to get someone to open that door. Somehow, some way, he was going to find out what was going on with this imposter. And it seemed that everything was falling into place. The Prince could wait no longer. Impatience and curiosity and anger mingled in his confused mind, as his heart pumped an anxious tempo deep within his chest. Today would be that day. It was time to put the plan into action. He could wait no longer.

"Adrian." Legolas was suprised at how firm his voice sounded, commanding and serious in the quiet room. The Ranger shifted his postion, crossing his arms again. "What is it!" he barked. The softer, more relatable Adrian was gone as quickly as he had come, and in his place was the lying, cheating Ranger that Legolas so despised.

"I am going to visit the quarters of Lord Elrond." The Ranger's eyes glittered, trying to slice Legolas into pieces, break his mind with their eerie greenish glow. But the Elf's willpower was strong. He would not back down from this strange man, one who had already comitted so many foul acts against him. "So?" said Adrian. Legolas could see the question in his eyes, sense his unrest. Legolas repressed a smile. Anything that made Adrian uneasy was favorable. And he knew, once he spoke the words he had been saving for so long, that they were the right ones. He was no longer afraid. For the first time in weeks, he felt like himself again. Sunlight bounced off his golden hair, his eyes shone with confidence, and in that moment, he felt like the true Prince of Mirkwood: bold and young and fearless.

"And you will accompany me. I am making an appeal to the Lord of Rivendell. We shall present ourselves to him, and he shall judge." Legolas paused for a moment, savoring the moment and the confusion on Adrian's face. "He will decide which one of us is more suitable for the Fellowship of the Ring. You see, good sir, if you are picked over me, I shall resign."

_Author's Note- I apologize for the massive gap in my posting. I've been very busy studying for finals, and everything has been absolutely hectic. I feel for those dedicated readers who come back every so often, (you know you are) disappointed because there are no new chapters. I promise to be more faithful to Legolas and Adrian, and as soon as summer comes, I'll be able to post at least once a week. _

_Happy reading!- Becca_


	19. Acceptance

Adrian's face was unreadable, a scarred mask of cold indifference. But Legolas could tell that inside his fiery red head, frienzied thoughts were running rampant. The Prince knew this because he adopted this very look during similar times. It was the look of someone trying to get a grasp on the situation while trying to look intelligent at the same time. It didn't work well for someone hideously deformed in the facial area, Legolas admitted to himself.

"I accept your fool challenge, Pointy-Ear," said the Ranger finally, the terrible nicname grating and familiar to the Elf Prince. "But be forewarned: I am much more able than you may think." Legolas tried to keep a straight face but was again biting back a smile. Able? Compared to what? A toad? Sure, he may have brute force or strength, but what was that compared to Legolas' flawless swordsmanship and archery skills?

Legolas looked down again and suddenly remembered that he still wasn't wearing a tunic. He crossed the room wihtout making a sound and opened the gilded golden dresser, feinting indifference but really listening hard for any sound coming from the Ranger. He chose a silvery white garment, one that was silky to the touch and amost seemed to give off a pearly glow. Legolas shouldered his bow and quiver and snapped his long knives to his belt. He now was ready for whatever challenge Adrian could throw at him. But in this case, he was the one dictating the challenges. Which was the way the Prince favored it.

"Then let us be off. I am sure Lord Elrond will witness our little, _ah,_ competition presently." Legolas ran a hand through his already impeccable hair as he waited impatiently for the false Ranger's reply. Adrian's response came through gritted teeth, and Legolas could almost see smoke billowing out of his nostils. "_Fine_."


	20. Elleth in the Hallway

Legolas allowed the Ranger to walk before him as they left the room, on the pretense of politeness. In truth, he wanted to keep a close eye on the man in front of him. Clear in his mind were those first sleepless nights spent at Rivendell, when Adrian would fly into a rage at nothing at all. Who knew what weapons were concealed beneath that night-black cloak of his? Legolas didn't care for a knife in the back, especially since he knew that the Fellowship would be leaving soon and he would need his full strength.

The hallway of the Rivendell guest housing yeilded not a single sound. Even the Elf Prince's fine-tuned ears could detect nothing. The silence was comforting somehow, warm and welcome and reminding Legolas of a peaceful daydream. But the Prince seldom daydreamed, and the present was definetly not the time to do so. His mind was sharp, and all he could think about was what Lord Elrond would say. Now that he thought about it, his plan was mayhaps a bit rash. Had he thought it through enough? It seemed so. He couldn't keep the shards of doubt from penetrating his resolve. But the alabaster mask was back on his face, and it was going nowehere. Legolas wouldn't let anyone guess what he was thinking, let nothing hint at his halt in confidence.

Tall, stately wooden doors were positioned every few feet. Legolas remembered the night he had wrenched open Adrian's door, and immediately regretted it. Now was not the time to think about such things! He glanced at the Ranger in front of him. Adrian walked with a lumbering, heavy stride, as if he were a much larger man. Legolas noticed for the first time that he walked with a slight limp. The torn edges of his ratty cloak fluttered around his mud-caked boots. They left a dirty trail behind him as he walked. Legolas wrinkled his nose in disgust, deciding to look at something else. He could not accept any kind of dirt or grime; it was in his nature.

A door suddenly opened up ahead. Starled, Legolas jumped backward a bit, his hand on the handle of his knife. A shy face peeked out from the door. Bright, innocent green eyes shone out from a round face. Dark curls cascaded down her head and shoulders, through which her pointed ears were just visible. The Elf Prince recognized the pretty face and returned her gaze with a beaming smile. It was the Elleth that had brought him the message about Elrond's Fellowship meeting. "Hello, dearest," he said, remembering how she had blushed when he called her that not a week ago. Her face colored again. The She-Elf's lips parted as if she were about to say something, but suddenly, the door slammed shut with a booming clang. Legolas could hear a frightened shriek from behind the door, and he looked up in anger.

Adrian leaned against the door, a wicked smile on his ugly face. "Been having lots of fun at Rivendell, haven't we, Your Highness?" Legolas gritted his teeth, feeling his pulse quicken. His hand had not strayed from the handle of his knife, and now his knuckles were turning white from the strain. "There was no need for that, Adrian," he said bitterly. "Not like you've ever gotten _any_ kind of attention from a woman!"

Instead of getting the Ranger angry like Legolas had hoped, Adrian simply laughed, a demented chuckle that hurt the Prince's ears and sent shivers down his spine. Adrian's eyes were lit with a green fire. He turned around and kept walking, so Legolas did the same, though he had to restrain himself from impaling a knife in the man's shoulder blades. Why must he be so infuriating!


	21. A Race

Still simmering, Legolas followed Adrian until they arrived at a set of stone stairs. The Ranger limped down them and Legolas bounded to the ground in two graceful jumps. He swept his hair out of his eyes and saw Adrian staring at him with a withering gaze. "Always such a show off," he muttered. Legolas forced himself to smile at the Ranger, but he would have much rather swallowed poison. "I would try to keep a civil tone," he said slowly, as if speaking to a child. "People might start thinking that you find me repulsive." He laughed inwardly at the murderous expression on the imposter's face and set off down the courtyard, his steps a little lighter.

The breeze tickling his face was pleasant, the autumn leaves chasing each other around him slim frame. The Prince of Mirkwood felt his mask slipping off his face, and for once, he did not care. He tried not to let anything trouble him as he mentally prepared himself for the meeting with Elrond. He supposed there would be some kind of a contest to measure strength and endurance, after Legolas proposed his idea. Actually, he had no idea, really. But knowing Elrond, he would think of something tricky and clever. Legolas smiled again, this time for real. Tricky and clever? That was what he did best.

There was no one else in the courtyard, which left Legolas wondering where everyone was. With a pang, he realized that he might have missed some sort of meeting. What if it was important? He palmed his face in shame. Here he was, going about his own affairs, when there were much bigger things at hand! After standing there awkwardly for a few minutes, he glimpsed a small crowd filing out of the meeting hall to the east, the same hall that he had sat in on that fateful night when Adrian had joined the Fellowship.

Oh! It was just lunch! Legolas wanted to kick himself. He heard an odd noise and looked down in alarm at his stomach. He had mistaken the squirming in his gut for nerves, but now he realized it was just hunger. Legolas remembered that he hadn't even eaten breakfast. His brow furrowed as he thought. He had never missed a meal in Mirkwood. This time spent in Rivendell had changed him, of that he was certain. He hadn't quite worked out if it was for better or for worse.

With his excellent eyesight, the Prince could clearly see Lord Elrond standing at the top of the steps of the hall, conversing with the wizard Gandalf. He couldn't make out what they were saying from here, but it probably concerned Frodo and the Fellowship. Finally, Gandalf descended the steps, and Elrond was alone, his pale red robes snapping in the wind. Legolas started towards the meeting hall at a brisk pace. He looked to the side and noticed that Adrian was right by his side, perfectly matching his stride even with his bad leg. The Prince frowned. Had had never met anyone, man or Elf, who was faster than him. The Prince decided to try him out. Gradually, he increased his stride until he was almost running.

Did Adrian snort, or was it just his imagination? The wind whipped Legolas' hair back, and he seemed to almsot float on air, never tiring, like he had trained for this all his life. Maddeningly, Adrian could keep the pace! Legolas tried not to let his anxiety show and broke into a flat-out run. They were nearing the hall, and Legolas could see Lord Elrond back up in confusion. Man and Elf were neck and neck, flying along like horses set free. Sweat poured off the Ranger's body, though he looked like he would never slow. Legolas felt no strain but was afraid he could go no faster. With a giant leap, they were at the steps of the meeting hall, arriving at precisely the same time.

Adrian collapsed at the foot of the stairs, coughing and sputtering. Legolas was slightly winded, though he would never show it. He re-arranged his hair and fixed his belt, making sure all his weapons were present, while allowing his heart rate and breathing to return to normal. After a few moments Adrian dragged himself to his feet, wheezing like a wounded boar. Though he was in the presense of a king, the Ranger only had eyes for his competitor. "I won," he coughed, sputtering on the words as if they cost him a great effort. "You wish, human," hissed Legolas out of the corner of his mouth. In spite of himself, his heart was pounding again, not out of physical strain, but out of anxiousness. He sank to knees before the Lord of Rivendell, raising his head just a bit so that all he could see was Elrond's fine dragon-hide boots. "Most gracious Lord Elrond," he said through a curtain of golden hair. "I ask your permission to make a humble proposition."


End file.
